


Study motivation...according to Gabriel

by A_simple_lee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12621936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_simple_lee/pseuds/A_simple_lee
Summary: Kevin’s been holed up in the library whilst Sam and Dean are on a case, growing increasingly infuriated with the Tablet. Of course, he’s kind of forgotten the essential part of studying effectively: taking care of yourself. Gabriel steps in to give him a hand; however, things quickly escalate. Ticklish!Kevin





	Study motivation...according to Gabriel

It was one of those weird evenings in the Bunker – the ones where everyone said everything without once speaking. Where a content silence hung in each room, and hours passed in the blink of an eye. It was almost a weird, half-existing feeling - almost like the sort of displacement one experiences whilst stepping through the lighting aisle of a homeware store. But Kevin found the serenity only added to his…was there even a name for how he was feeling? The prophet stared down at his hands blankly, as if the upturned palms might provide him with an answer. His mind was slipping further from reality with each passing minute – all he could sense was this hollow numbness in his head, like his conscious was drifting through a sea of static. The moment he was able to grasp a coherent thought, he found his mind slipping into blankness mere seconds later. He couldn’t focus on any one thing at a time, and it infuriated him.

The large tome regarding Enochian symbols lay neglected upon the table, its symbols acting as a mocking reminder of the work he was currently incapable of completing. Why wouldn’t his brain cooperate? This of all times was not the time to be switching off – however, he apparently had no choice in the matter. Kevin huffed wearily as his eyes flicked away from the foreign ideograms, glaring despairingly at the ceiling.

“Heya, Grouch.”

Divine antagonism was the last thing he needed, the prophet thought as he screwed his eyes shut in annoyance, refusing to lock eyes with the visitor.

“This isn’t Sesame Street, Gabriel. Get out,”

“Yikes, someone’s a bit prickly. What was in that coffee of yours, huh?” The Trickster hopped on to the table, paying no regard to personal boundaries as he leaned across Kevin to peer with disdain into the half-empty mug. His eyebrows furrowed when he noticed the barely touched plate of food sitting forgotten by an ink-stained notepad.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just thought you’d enjoy my company.”

Kevin almost smirked. “You wish.”

“So, where are the elusive Winchesters?”

“Off on a hunt. They left like at like, seven.”

“Didn’t even have dinner with you?”

“No – I mean yes – ugh. Dean reheated some pizza, and Sam asked me to go through to the kitchen so I could eat with them, but I wanted to stay here.”

“So lemme get this straight – you didn’t have dinner with Samsquatch and Dean because you wanted to eat in here, but two hours later, and…you haven’t had anything?”

“Watch it, you sound like you actually care.”  
“Because I know exactly what your problem is, but you’re too busy staring at a rock to notice it yourself.”

“Gabe- Can- just stop, okay?! I’m trying to make progress!”

“Kevlin, you haven’t written anything down for the past hour and a half.”

“Exactly! I’m not working hard enough!”

“Not quite – look, how about we play a game?”

Kevin groaned – he’d learned from experience that Gabe having a plan was always a bad sign.

“N-no.”

“Aw, come on! Besides, if we’re being realistic, you won’t get any more work done until you figure out what’s wrong in that head of yours. So unless you insist upon being so unproductive, I’d suggest accepting the offer.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Naturally,” Gabriel made a dismissive gesture, bounding up from his perch on the furniture and leaning against a bookshelf, lollipop in hand.

“Alright, fine. And this will get me to function properly?”

“Something like that,” The twinkle in the Archangel’s golden eyes was unnerving to say the least.

“Ok…so what’s this game?”

“Well, since you’re evidently in such a cheery mood, how about…Twister?”

“Ugh, really?! This is your big idea?”

“So, you go first,” Gabriel ignored the prophet’s complaints, a smug grin upon his face as he snapped his fingers, a Twister mat and spinner appearing on the floor. An anticipatory groan slipped from the prophet’s throat.

Kevin was at a loss for words – of all the games Gabe could’ve picked, Twister?! Quite frankly, he’d expected something at least a little more intellectually challenging. Nevertheless, he rose from his chair, throwing a longing gaze at his work before heading over and standing on the mat. Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows, standing at the edge of the board and frowning at his companion.

“Hm…something’s missing. Or rather, something’s not missing,” With a decisive click, Kevin’s shoes teleported to his chair, leaving the ex-student standing in his socks. After a brief glance at his slipping feet, he glared at the archangel, exasperation tugging his eyebrows upwards and into a sort of shocked curve.

“You’re kidding me. This is ridiculous!”

“Lighten up, Kevvie-kins! Look, I’ll play fair, if you insist,” The shorter of the duo blinked, his height lowering slightly at his boots vanished. He folded his arms, a smirk playing upon his lips. Kevin scowled, muttering.

“Don’t call me Kevvie-kins,”

However, his lamentations were interrupted by an enthusiastic shout on Gabriel’s part.

“Left hand blue!”

An incoherent grumble escaped the prophet as he frowned and bent down, fingers resting on the patch of cool blue. He was just beginning to grow bored when he noticed Gabriel standing to the left of him, right foot placed on a green dot. Kevin looked up at the spinner, which was resting against a chair, rotating on its own accord. Suddenly the arrow came to a halt, resting above the designated label.

“Left foot green – this is already uncomfortable,” He pouted, leg stretching sideways across the mat. His centre of gravity seemed to sway unpredictably - and Kevin attempted to keep up with it, lest he topple over into failure.

“Stop being so pessimistic,” The Trickster muttered, reaching with his left hand to touch a blue dot. Both angel and human locked eyes then, a small spark of determination in their gazes. Despite the childishness of the situation, Kevin couldn’t help but want to win – after all, the Trickster was bound to cheat at some point. If he could somehow get Gabriel to slip over before he had a chance to find a loophole in the rules, he’d finally be able to beat the archangel at his own game. That would be a first for him.

Five spins later, and Kevin’s simple plan suddenly seemed a lot more out of reach. His arms were aching with the effort of suspending his frame in such an awkward position – the prophet had paused to consider whether Gabriel had rigged the spinner to pick the most inconvenient spots, but the archangel also seemed to be in a sort of human-shaped knot. Kevin assessed their positions with a cursory glance at his companion, who greeted him with an eyebrow waggle. At some point, Kevin had made the mistake of twisting both his legs, left foot now on a yellow patch, with his right on a green circle. His arms were twisted behind him, right arm outstretched to rest feebly above a crimson zone on the other end of the mat. His left hand sat awkwardly on a blue dot, leaving him in a sort of twisted, pretzel-like bridge, his torso floating in mid-air as his limbs struggled to keep his back off the floor. Meanwhile, Gabriel seemed to be in an ever so slightly less compromising position – his right hand rested lackadaisically upon a red patch, whilst his right foot stood on a yellow faction, leaving the rest of his vessel propped up in a sort of floating lying position. The archangel grinned as he watched the needle on the board come to a rest.

“Left hand blue,” He stated, eyes searching the area around him. Eventually he wove his arm around Kevin’s in order to reach a dot under Kevin’s torso. A grin crept onto his features as he looked at their interlocked elbows.

“You know, Kevvie-kins, I could just pull your arm out from under you and you’d be gone.”

“Yeah, well don’t. It’s cheating.”

“Me? Cheating? Never. Although things don’t exactly seem to be in my favour right about now. Perhaps I should change that,”

“Gabriel, you said you wouldn’t!”

“Correct, sort of. Playing fair means giving you a fighting chance, which I will do.”  
“What are you-“ Kevin’s breath caught in his throat as he felt a signature golden zing rush over his sides in one sweep. He twitched, head whipping around immediately to fix his companion with an icy glower.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

“What are you on about, Kevlin? I’m not doing anything,”

Two swift pinches to his lower ribs had the brunette biting his lip, determined to win despite the prankster’s antics.

“Your mojo! C-come on, it’s against the rules!” All attempts at hostility towards Gabriel had been ditched in favour of hopeful excuses against using Grace.

“What’s against the rules?” Gabriel feigned innocence, but his grin betrayed all as Kevin fought to stay upright, the celestial Grace fluttering over his sides and pinching at the sides of his tummy. A few renegade giggles escaped as the prophet struggled to suppress his reflexes, arms shaking with the effort of remaining above ground.

“Aha- Tickling!”

“What? No it’s not – if you read the instructions, you’d know that they don’t even mention it. I said I’d play fair, so I am. No rules broken.”

“Thihihihis is so not fahair!”

“I’m tired of Twister,” The archangel smirked, clambering out of his awkward pose on the floor to watch his prophet laughing helplessly. “How about a new game?”

“Noho!” The feelings reached a deafening peak as they coursed over Kevin’s skin, scrambling and fluttering and tasering all over his torso. With a final shriek, he crashed to the ground, defeated, hysterics pouring from his lips like music.

“I’m gonna ask a question, and you have five seconds to answer, or the tickles get worse. Whadda ya say?”

“Nahaha! Ihihi hahave to wohork!”  
“Not gonna happen. You see, your problem is that you’ve worked too hard – your brain just can’t deal with any more information today. The only solution? A break. You’re welcome.”

“Ahaha, thahat dohoesn’t mahake sehense thohough!”

“It’s not rocket science, Mr. AP. You work too hard, and your brain needs some downtime. Capische?”

“Thihihihs ihihisn’t a breheak!” A shriek left Kevin’s lips as a mini lightning bolt zipped over to his navel, circling his bellybutton with an infuriating tingling that fizzed and left his nerves buzzing. His hands clutched his torso desperately, trying to at least diminish the Grace running amock through his nervous system. Energy coursed through his veins, waking him from his day-dream state and setting his conscious whirring with life. The world came back into focus at last, enabling the prophet to finally regain his concentration. Unfortunately, there was little to concentrate on, save the tickling and Gabriel’s teasing.

“Oooh, sweet spot? How adorable.”

“Shuhuahahat uhup! AHA! NOHOHO! NO!” The sudden increase in the mojo’s voltage caught Kevin off guard, throwing him into a brief fit of uninhibited laughter – however, the feelings dimmed after a moment, fizzling just enough to keep him giggling steadily.

“First question: How much worse is it when I say tickle?”

“Nahahaha, GABE! Plehehease!” The ex-student could feel the blush rising in his features, twitching and laughing on the floor, incapable of doing much else.

“Five, Four…”

“Ohohoakahay! OKAHAY! Ihihit’s hohorrible! Nehehext question!”

“Alright, alright, Ticklish. But first…tickle tickle!”

“NOHO! Dohohon’t!”

“Interesting – is that a blush I see? Is Kevlin blushing from the tickles? Does the word tickle make the tickling worse for ticklish Kevvy?”

“Youhou bihihih*tch!” Hands grappling at invisible ticklers, Kevin could only flush a darker shade of crimson.

“Hey! Respect, if you please!” With a playful growl, Gabriel amped up the celestial waves around his prophet, throes of pleading laughter following immediately. A smile found the Archangel’s lips as he watched the spectacle with amusement, Kevin’s shrieking giggles sparking a warm fondness. Despite their habit for causing apocalypses, humans were incredible to Gabriel. And their laughs – oh, how he loved their laughs. It was possibly his favourite thing about being the Trickster; delighting in those joyous notes that rang likes bells from their souls – rather addictive, that, he mused from his position by the long forgotten Twister mat. How a human’s very being glowed and danced in pure elation whenever hysterics flowed from their vessel. How each note sent waves of positivity through the psychic plains. How a human’s laugh could change so dramatically, how unique and individual a single giggle could be. How one person’s being shined or glimmered in mirth in a completely eccentric way, unrepeated in anyone else. And the snorts – how Gabriel marvelled in them; the squeaks, the hiccups: the small, idiosyncratic noises that were not only downright adorable but caused the soul to let off sparks that lit up the surrounding atmosphere – and each spark was so wondrous, so packed with that one magical ingredient called humanity, that they were completely and utterly unique. Some souls let off miniature stars that whizzed up into the air like Catherine wheels; some created glowing spheres that bounced from their existence before rolling along the floor like a sea of marbles. Ah, how beautiful it was: To see a being so carefree, to forget one’s worries and simply let go. Laughter was truly magical – which was why, being the Trickster, Gabriel made it his mission to fill the Bunker with it at the first opportunity. He saw how downtrodden his humans looked at times; someone had to ensure they cheered up. Whether they had a say in the matter was an entirely different topic though, the Archangel thought, grinning at the abrupt shriek he elicited from the prophet on the floor, causing his soul to glow that little bit brighter. Somewhat reluctant, the seraph toned down the tickles back to their original level, unable to fight off a smile at the contentment spreading from his human.

Kevin was dying – the teasing spark in Gabriel’s eyes had somehow started a blaze of embarrassment that set his ears and face aflame. Meanwhile, the mojo had begun to figure out Kevin’s weak spots, zoning in on infuriatingly ticklish nerves he’d never even realised he had – the incessant pinching just below his ribs had him in stitches, coupled with the feathers repeatedly circling his navel, whilst fizzling strokes of ticklish lightning darted over his sides, occasionally lingering on a particular region towards his back that caused him to arch off the floor.

“AHAHAHA! PLEHEHEAHA!”

At last, the tickling withdrew a considerable amount, receding enough to give the prophet a breather yet still cause renegade snickers to escape every few breaths.

“Question Two: should I tell Sammitch you’re ticklish?”

The Bunker’s messenger groaned inwardly – Gabriel always knew how to push his buttons. The very concept of Sam seeing him like this ; a shrieking puddle on the floor ; threw Kevin into such a state of embarrassment that he had trouble opening his mouth to contradict the notion.

“Ahahahaha! N-Noho!”

“I’ll take that as a yes,”

“Nahahaha! Dohohohon’t!”

“Question Three…” The shorter of the pair took a couple of swift steps along the floor, pacing back and forth with a smug grin on his face. Hands clasped together, lollipop hanging from his mouth, he proceeded. “…Why haven’t you asked me to stop?”

Honestly? Gabriel wasn’t expecting an answer; at least, not a coherent one. He knew he’d struck a nerve – after all, it was a bit obvious that Kevin liked being tickled; the archangel had never, in all his time at the bunker, heard Kevin utter the simple word of “stop” when under attack. That, combined with his incessant blushing and failure to push away offending hands, gave Gabriel ample information to launch a carefully calculated attack which would surely tear Kevin into flustered pieces.

“Fuhuhuh*ck off!”

The prophet’s reply only warranted a small chuckle from his tickler.

“Five, four, three…”

Seeing Kevin’s blush darken by the second, illuminated by his bright smile; it was more than entertaining. After a brief pause between numbers to admire his handiwork, the seraph continued the countdown.

“two…”

“NAHA! Plehehease!”

There was no way in Hell Kevin was going to answer. He refused with every fibre of his being – if he told Gabriel he liked being tickled, he’d never hear (or feel, for that matter) the end of it. Feet kicking the ground in a brief bout of frustration, the bunker’s resident grouch attempted to steel himself for the inevitable onslaught, simultaneously dreading and anticipating what was to come.

“One!” The immediate finger snap may as well have been a thunder clap, for all the power it held. Instantaneously, the celestial energy sent Kevin’s way doubled, a tumult of ticklish sensations running amok throughout his vessel and sending him deeper into the never ending sea of embarrassment he seemed to be drowning in that day.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, with reverberating grace flooding his nerves, it happened.

The hiccup.

At first, Gabriel started laughing, and began a jaunting remark on the sweetness of the noise.

“Aw, Kevvy’s got hic-“

But his words were lost to Kevin, because suddenly, he couldn’t. Stop. The hiccups. Every few seconds, his frantic laughter would be cut off, replaced instead with a hysterical little yip. Needless to say, the reoccurring hiccups brought Gabriel endless entertainment.

“Oh my goodness! Kevlin, this is too sweet. You understand, right? You’ll forgive me for this?”

“FOHOGIHIHIVE *hic* YOUHOU FOHOR *hic* WHAHAHAT?” The prophet rolled on the floor to throw a fleeting glance at his Archangel, but was met with…no.

Gabriel brandished the recording phone with glee, hopping on top of the library table to film the flailing human on the floor. Oh, how wonderful it was to be Prankster.

“PLEHEHEHAHAHA! *hic* GAHAHA-*hic*-AHAHABE! NAHAHA*hic*AHAHA!”

“Say hi to Sam, Kevlin!”

“PHIHIHI-*hic*-IH*SS OHOHOFF! *hic*”

“…Kevin says hi. He’s too ticklish to engage right now.” Thumb tapping the pause button on the recording, Gabriel placed the mobile on the table and folded his arms, mojo slowing down once more.

The Winchester’s Prophet took in deep breaths, still laughing quietly, arms wrapped like vices around his torso.

“Plehehehease, Gahahabe!”

“Alright, alright. Last question: You like being tickled, don’t you?”

“Ahahaha, thihihis is juhust mehehean!”

“Well, if you answer, then I’ll stop. Pretty sure that’s not what you want.”

“Shhuhuhut uhuhuhup!”

“Five, four, three…” The countdown was merely a build-up; a chance for Kevin to gather his thoughts and squeak in expectation.

“Two, one.”

That was it: Kevin was gone, lost in giggles and hiccups as Gabriel’s mojo devastated his senses – tiny feathers traced spirals under his arms, phantom hands tasered his ribs, fingertips vibrated into his tummy, and a buzzing, vibrating sort of tendril poked around in his navel, bringing tears to his eyes.

How Gabriel loved it when their eyes screwed shut; the crinkles at the edges, the glow of a smile illuminating the closed lids. It was beautiful. His father’s creations as they should be: happy and carefree.

It seemed like a brief eternity for both parties, each relishing the joyful aura that flowed through the library. Neither particularly wished for it to come to an end – but humans needed oxygen, and, when Kevin’s laughter turned silent, it was the Trickster’s queue to back off. At first, Kevin didn’t completely realise the onslaught had stopped, and merely lay sprawled on the twister mat, taking in deep breaths, a lopsided smile lingering in his features.

“Well, you gonna admit it?”

Gabriel received no answer but a slight head shake as his prophet finally rose from the ground, hands covering his torso, rubbing away ghostly tingles. But the content shining in Kevin’s eyes was evident; his very being seemed to be pulsing with joy, sending waves of joy to the Archangel.

“U-ugh, you’re horrible!” Kevin groaned, hands propping his frame against the table in exhaustion, that stupid blush refusing to leave his face. His companion made to answer him with a snarky comment, but was cut off by the sudden drone of a mobile. With a quite positively maleficent grin, he grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear, striding a safe distance away from the Bunker’s tablet-decoder.

“Heya, Sammy! What?! Don’t be ridiculous, I didn’t kill him…well. No, you can’t talk to him, I’m afraid that Elmo here is still recovering from the tickles that he so clearly loved – isn’t that right, Kevlin?” Said prophet had scrambled over to the angel, grappling to reach the mobile, which was held infuriatingly out of reach as Gabriel’s thumb pressed the speakerphone button.

“G-GABE, SHUT UP!”

“Whass’a matter? You don’t want Moose to know you like tickles? How sweet.”

“W-what – is that true?” Sam’s voice rang clear through the library, causing Kevin to falter and cover his face with one hand, a slight groan slipping from his agitated lips.

“OH MY – NOT TRUE!”

“Are you sure, Kevvie-kins? Because that gorgeously vibrant blush suggests otherwise~”

“Ohokay, Dean and I will be back by tomorrow. Just, uh, hang in there, Kevin? We’ll be there to help Gabriel shortly.” An abrupt click signalled the phonecall had ended, yet both angel and prophet failed to react for a good moment or two. Then, the stunned silence was shattered by outbursts on both parts.

“WHAT THE F*CK-“

“HE SUPPORTS IT! TOLD YA SO, KEVVY! WE’RE GONNA WRECK YOU!”

“UGH, WHY WOULD HE – I’M DEAD!” Much to Gabriel’s amusement, the student was on his knees, features torn between hidden happiness and embarrassed frustration. The ramblings lapsed into quiet once more, with the elder of the two standing back in smug admiration of the utter chaos he’d initiated. A concise finger snap warned Kevin that his Archangel’s departure was imminent; the game board beneath his feet disappeared, sneakers appearing on his feet once more.

“Well, that was quite entertaining. I’d say that ought to be enough of a break, wouldn’t you, Kev? Call me or something if you can’t work – in the meantime, I have Heaven work to attend to,” Hand held to his mouth in a mocking yawn, Gabriel clicked his free fingers once more, vanishing, leaving no trace save the slight flutter of excited wings. Kevin was left alone again, stunned. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, and clambered back towards his chair to take a second attempt at translation. Hopefully Gabriel’s so-called break had removed any mental blocks, as promised.

However, the student soon realised it was the opposite case: no matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn’t wipe the previous events from his mind. And to think Sam was going to – ugh. Crimson rushed to his cheeks at the concept of both Winchesters planning his demise. Head resting on the table in resignation, Kevin began organising the various types of rubbish strewn over his workspace. He muttered to himself about stupid archangels and their lack of work ethic, only somewhat bitter about his distraction.

After all, it wasn’t like he’d be getting much work done any time soon.


End file.
